by Jane Ederlyn
Bartolommeo remained stony and unreadable, either not understanding or not caring. “Please leave now.”
“I loved Marie.”
“Etienne will be pleased to hear you loved Her Grace.” Bartolommeo waved his hand and the vampires separated to let the werewolves pass.
Egon touched Odin’s arm. “We have to go. There are more outside.”
Odin hesitated, weighing the consequences of staying or going. They hadn’t gotten what they came for. How was he going to find Abby?
“Let’s go.” Egon pushed him out the door.
“You are no longer welcome here, Odin, or anywhere in vampire territory. You must vacate the beach condo immediately and if you trespass on our properties again, there will be consequences.”
Before Odin could protest, they closed the door with a finality that echoed across the yard.
“I need to think.” Odin punched the rear of his truck and it crumbled under the impact. He shook his hand and balled it again, readying for another blow when Lagmann emerged from the side of the house.
“There are at least a dozen vampires, not including the ones in the house. There’s nothing we can do tonight.” Lagmann paused before continuing. “Have you wondered why they took Abby? She’s Marie’s human daughter. Right now, she’s probably in a vamp house under lock and key, or worse. Without Marie around to protect her, she’s either dead or turned. She knows too much about them to be left to her own devices.”
Egon took a sharp intake of breath. “She has Marie’s blood. They wouldn’t hurt her.”
“She is either dead or she is blaming us for what happened. Either way, she is dead to us.”
Odin roared and lunged at Lagmann. His empty hands shifted into claws and swiped at his friend. Welts appeared across Lagmann’s pale cheeks. Then Odin punched him straight on.
Something crunched, and he staggered back, holding his bleeding nose.
“I warned you that nothing good would come of this. You can deny it all century, but it’s my job to be counsel.”
Egon stepped between them, took a book out of his pocket, and waved it at them.
Odin stared at the paperback not understanding.
“Since when are you reading about vampires and werewolves in love?” Lagmann asked.
Egon shook his head. “It’s Abby’s book.”
“Get to the point,” Odin said.
Egon flipped through a few pages until he found a folded white envelope.
Odin snatched it out of his hand and inspected the nondescript envelope. “What is it?”
“A notice from a New York apartment. Their New York apartment.”
Odin glanced down at the heavy stock and imperceptible return address. It seemed trivial and yet it meant so much, and the rage for himself, for his father, for fate, drained out of him in a rush. “It’s where Marie wanted to go and if not for me, we would’ve all been there.”
“Abby might be there now,” Egon said.
“We’re coming to get you, Bee.”
Chapter XLII
France
All her life, Marie had worked hard not to be a monster. But in this house, everyone looked at her like she was a monster, as if she were twisted and unfeeling, as if she were like Anton. And her maid was not an exception.
Dressed severely in a gray nun-like dress, the woman bent over a clawed tub as it filled with steaming water. She kept glancing behind her, as if she didn’t trust Marie not to attack. When the bathtub filled, she switched off the water and dried her wrinkled hands on a spotless, white apron. “Anything else, Mademoiselle?”
Marie shook her head.
The maid expelled a breath and rushed past, hugging the wall. Anton appeared at the door and the old woman paused for a quick curtsy before disappearing in a cloud of flapping skirts. He smiled. “They want to please me. As should you.” He scanned Marie and the look he gave her was so scathing, she flinched. “You’re a mess.”
He wore his hair loose around his shoulders and a black satin dinner jacket over cherry-red pants. Anton liked dressing for dinner. A smile touched her lips. Odin wouldn’t be caught dead in red pants or the kind of frilly, ruffled shirts Anton favored.
He grabbed her chin and shoved it right and left, inspecting her face. She hadn’t looked in a mirror, but in his eyes, along with dissatisfaction, was a reflection she didn’t recognize.
This close and touching, his blood roared in her head and a flare of hunger made her sway on her feet. If only she could have a little, just a little blood. She was so hungry and couldn’t think straight. But she willed herself to be strong. He didn’t respect weakness and she had more than herself to think about.
He released her chin and grasped her forearms, yanking her forward to close the distance between them. His cold lips pressed against hers in a sharp, open-mouthed kiss that claimed and promised more. Much more. She managed not to flinch, but when he pulled away, his eyes glowed possessive and ferocious. His face hardened into a white marble mask, hollow with purple veins, and pulsed with a chartreuse flame. His fingers dug into her arms, breaking skin and squeezing until blood oozed.
There was no doubt he realized she was as different on the inside as she was on the outside. The exterior damage would heal eventually. But inside, Odin was forged into her soul and he couldn’t rip him out.
Turning away, she focused on the crackling flames in the fireplace and the scent of lavender rising from the tub. Lavender, like home. She would survive this.
“See what happens when you are away from me.”
She wouldn’t call out in pain. She wouldn’t beg. “Hungry,” she croaked, the word slipping past her lips, her body overriding her will.
He slid his hands down her arms and body, following her curves as if he was taking inventory, before tearing away her remaining clothes. “You are too precious to waste on a dirty animal.” He slipped an arm underneath her knees and carried her to the tub, before dropping her into the scalding water. “Clean the stench from your body. Scrub until it is all gone. Until I can no longer smell wolf on you.” He licked the blood from his fingertips. “I will punish them all for what they have done to my princess.”
“Anton, please.”
“You are mine.” He gave her a hard stare and for a moment she thought he’d leave, but he nicked his finger and held it out to her. She managed one short draw before he snatched it away.
“All in time. First a bath. Then perhaps more blood.” He turned to leave but stopped, his hand on the doorknob, and glanced at her over his shoulder.
“Abby is superb. You have outdone yourself raising her.”
She tensed.
“So predictable.” Laughing, he closed the door.
Marie sat by the window, unblinking and immobile. The night air, unusually cold and pervasive, seeped through the walls and into the room, and she tightened her shawl against the bite. She’d slept so much the nights bled into each other and she’d lost all sense of time. Where was Odin? Why hadn’t he come for them?
She was torn, part of her hoping he’d stay far away, fearing what would happen. Going up against a vampire as old and strong as Anton was suicide, and she didn’t want him hurt. But part of her missed Odin with an ache worse than bones and flesh and wished for the impossible.
She tried to shake off her doldrums. It wasn’t like her to be depressed, but the repercussions of escaping death again clung to her like a battle wound.
A bright moon with a halo of clouds shadowed the newly gold landscape. A thick coat of autumn had fallen, and the rain and fog crawling in behind it brought memories of past harvests. She treasured those days with Mathieu, but not all memories of the season were happy.
She and Anton were in the crowd that charged Versailles. It had been similarly rainy and foggy and ho
rrible to witness. Worse than the weather, was seeing the hatred and madness on the faces, and being unable to help her cousin. She could still see Louis’s face, full of disappointment and fear, a victim of birth and circumstance.
Anton feasted on the villagers, and when his appetite for chaos and blood was quenched, he whisked her away. Not long after that, she said goodbye to her beloved France and took Marcel to England.
The floorboards creaked outside her door. Must be Anton with his daily dose of medicine, a few drops of his blood, supplemented with a little from a human servant. Enough rations to survive on but not enough to finish healing. Anton’s stinginess and his need to control her were in overdrive. But she was farther along than he suspected, though not nearly as far along as she needed to be, and her powerlessness scared her.
She longed to see Abby, but Anton refused. Knowing that she was locked away somewhere in the house would have to be enough until she strengthened and could devise an escape. If Anton showed interest in Abby, she wasn’t strong enough to stop him, and that fear consumed her. Would he dare turn her?
The doorknob clicked and a familiar tug made her whip around.
Etienne cracked the door open and stuck his head in. “I have a surprise for you. Anton was in a good mood today.” He winked at her. “A double surprise.” He threw the door open.
“Hi.” Abby emerged from behind Etienne, smiling tenderly, and it was sunshine to Marie’s eyes. As if they were still home and malice hadn’t touched their lives, she walked in with a mirrored tray holding lavender sprigs and a goblet of blood.
“Oh, Abigail.” She sprang out of her seat and inhaled her familiar scent, absorbing her slow, comforting heartbeat. “How I’ve missed you, ma chérie.” Her voice choked.
The door closed with a whoosh and an additional energy imposed on her consciousness. Fast, almost inaudible, beats raced near Abby’s. Marie stilled and cocked her head.
“What is it?” Abby asked.
She dropped to her knees and laid a cheek on Abby’s stomach.
“You are pregnant, ma chérie. We are going to have babies.”
“I am?” Abby’s voice trembled.
Marie smoothed the cotton of Abby’s shirt and caressed the still flat abdomen. She had waited so long for this.
“Wait, did you say babies, as in plural?”
“Shh.” Marie stopped, looped two figure eights, and then tapped in the same rhythm as the babies. Trees rustled against the windowpane joined by the spattering of raindrops. Abby’s breathing, warm and fast with emotion, swirled around her, as did the burgeoning presence and strong double beats of their babies. Every life was a new gift that filled her with renewed purpose and with this blessing, the deep silence of healing and its darkness lifted.
Marie straightened, took the tray out of Abby’s frozen hands, and placed it on the table. Then she laid Abby’s hand over her stomach and settled her own over it. “Listen and feel.”
A tear formed in Abby’s eye and trickled down her cheek. “We—”
Marie silenced her with a finger on her mouth and shook her head.
Abby’s brows furrowed.
“When it is time, we will go home for the babies,” she said silently.
Abby nodded.
It was as much as Marie dared to say, in this house where the walls were like extensions of Anton’s ears, mouth, and limbs. Although she did have the maker-child connection with him, thoughts weren’t as clear as they were with Abby, especially when she projected face to face like this. With Anton it was more an awareness of heightened emotions. Her thoughts were one of the few places he hadn’t invaded.
She needed to heal. She had done it before and would do it again. They needed to extricate themselves from Anton. Abby and the babies weren’t safe here. Old memories flashed and she shivered. She wasn’t sure how, but she would think of something. She always did. And they would return home to Miami. There was so much to do, but at this moment she wanted only to enjoy Abby before Anton swept her away.
Chapter XLIII
Werewolves hated crowded enclosed places like the leading hub that was Miami International Airport. The congestion exacerbated by frenetic travel activity inundated and overwhelmed their senses. Odin rubbed his overgrown beard and glanced at his men, making sure they weren’t distracted.
Machines whirred, lifted, pushed, pulled, or carried. Passengers, employees, and televisions chattered. So many conversations like a concentrated feed vying for attention. And food was everywhere. Different aromas, slamming at them. Cuban café, sweet and rich. Alcohol, pungent and strong. But the most dangerous, the meats. Tempting them like Hansel and Gretel by the witch’s candy cottage.
They approached the American Airlines counter and a smiling brunette whose tag read Jennifer, asked for their tickets. Odin patted his back pockets but found them empty.
“I have them.” Lagmann reached into his carry on and handed the agent five tickets.
Odin’s cell phone rang. His heart skipped a beat at the name on the screen. In his head, he had gone over what to say over and over, not sure whether to play the political game or be honest, man-to-man. In the end, emotion took over. “Why haven’t you answered our calls?”
“Forget New York. Paris is lovely this time of year.”
“Who is this? Etienne is asleep.”
“The city comes alive at night.”
So he was in France too? Of course, Paris was six hours ahead.
“I’ll be in touch.” The line went dead.
Odin stared at the blank screen, processing the significance of the call and the implications of the carefully composed words. They’d wasted precious time going back and forth to New York. He looked up. Lagmann was packing their identifications, boarding passes in hand. Odin shook his head. “Change of plans.”
All of them gaped at him.
He put a hand on the counter and leaned in. “Sweetheart, what can you do for us? We need to go to Paris instead.”
She blushed under his intense scrutiny.
“We can use your ticket to La Guardia and get you a connecting flight to Charles de Gaulle.” She continued typing. “Or exchange your tickets for a direct flight.”
“Which one gets us to Paris first?”
She blushed again. “The direct flight, but there’s only two in first class and nothing together in economy.”
“Do we get food?”
“Yes, sir.”
Odin smiled. “We’ll take five of whatever you have.”
When they stepped away from the counter, Lagmann whirled on him. “Do you want to clue us in on what happened?”
“Etienne called with a cryptic message about Paris.
“She’s in France?” Egon asked. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Where?” Lagmann asked.
“From what I gathered, he will communicate with us again when we get there.”
Lagmann’s mouth pursed into a hard straight line. “It’s not much to go on.”
“It’s something.”
“You do understand what this means? The girl is with Marie’s maker.” A family of six wheeled by them. One of the kids was texting and bumped into Lagmann. He waited for them to pass then continued. “We could be walking into a war.”
“Marie’s been killed by our brothers.” Odin’s chest constricted as if an iron fist squeezed his heart. He couldn’t believe she was gone. There were moments when he could fool himself into believing it was a dream and she was just sleeping, waiting for him. Then there were others, when the reality hit him so hard he knew that he was changed forever. Only the single-minded need to find Abby kept him sane, kept him moving forward. “We won’t be received well if they know we’re there. And if she is with Anton, then it’s suicide. I can’t ask you do to this. This is m
y promise. I will understand if you stay behind.”
“Stay behind? Are you kidding? Our place is with you,” Egon said.
Odin expected that from Egon. He turned to Thorhild. “What about you? You have a family. There’s a chance we won’t come back. And if we do, then we’ll be enemies of Stormda.”
“You’re our leader, Odin. And I’m here because of my family. They need you.”
Siv nodded.
Odin sighed. What had he done to inspire this loyalty? He’d been avoiding responsibility his whole existence. How many more pack were in the compound waiting for him to save them from Stormda? He slapped Thorhild on the back. “I won’t let you down. Let’s go.”
“We’ll need a hotel,” Lagmann said.
Odin chuckled. “Get to it, Counselor.”
By the time they walked through the doors of the Paris Marriott Champs-Elysées, all five werewolves were starving, hungry enough to eat the desk clerk if he delayed too long retrieving their keys. A low rumble tickled Odin’s ear. He glanced back. Thorhild munched on a protein bar. Lagmann stared up at the atrium, stiff and silent. Egon surveyed the entrances and exits, sniffing as he went along, and attracting more attention that Odin liked. That left Siv as the culprit. He gave him a warning look and the younger werewolf grinned sheepishly. They all needed food, shower, and sleep, in that order.
“Anything?” Odin asked when Egon returned.
Egon shook his head. “Are we tracking tonight?”
“No.” Searching for Abby in the evening would be paramount to waving a red flag at the city’s vamps. And they needed to wait for Etienne to contact them. He took the room keys from the clerk’s outstretched hand and followed the smell of food.
Salivating, Siv followed a platter of steaming plates to their destination. He licked his lips. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we won’t have any privacy here.”